“Yes.”
28
Theymarchedhimstraightto the agency, of course.
Eunjae didn't drag his feet. He didn't ask to stop at the dorms for a shower and a change of clothes. His eyeballs felt like they'd been rolled in sand and then pushed back into their sockets, but he made no appeals for sleep.Let's get this over with, he thought to himself, following Nami-noona through the gleaming halls of Emerald Entertainment.Let them hit me with whatever they've got.
He watched the numbers change on the panel above the elevator doors: six, seven, eight. The executive offices were on this floor. All along the main corridor, enormous illuminated panels featured the faces of Emerald’s biggest stars, past and present: soloists and groups, actors and actresses, all dressed for their headshots in vivid, arresting green.
Eunjae remembered when Apollo had earned the right to have their images hung in the executive hall. He and his brothers were here too, photographed in threes because nine was too many for one panel to hold.
Despite his earlier conviction, Eunjae paused at the images of Haewon and Soyeon flanking the entrance to CEO Yoon’s office, lagging behind even as Jungwoo pushed straight through. They hadn’t spoken to each other since the confrontation at Wanna Waffle. Max looked back for a second, concerned, until Nami-noona urged him onward.
“Come on, Ari,” she said softly. Her voice was kind but worn down, unraveled by the stress and anxiety of the past week. It occurred to Eunjae that his time with the Hans had been the longest he'd gone without at least one of his brothers nearby and also the farthest he'd ever strayed beyond Nami’s oversight.
When he still wouldn't budge, Nami sighed and sent the security staff back to the elevator. Together, she and Eunjae stared up at the founders’ faces on either side of Yoon’s door. The photographer had gotten his shot while Soyeon was in the middle of laughing at something; her happiness was effervescent, impossible to contain within the bezeled frame. On the opposite panel, Haewon’s smile showed no teeth, but she had eyes that spoke volumes. Her earrings were heavy emerald drops that trapped the light and held it within.
They were here, larger than life. They were nowhere, and too far for him to reach. But if he could only talk to them, reason with them, surely the founders would listen. Once upon a time, they’d lived this life, too. Once upon a time, they'd cared and understood. Eunjae wanted to believe that they still did. He wanted to believe that Kazu was wrong, that hoping for a compromise wasn't just an exercise in futility.
“Where are they?” he asked Nami. But this time she only pulled him away. Maybe she didn’t know. Maybe she couldn’t or wouldn’t tell him. It was impossible to guess.
Inside the office, the walls were all windows, sheets of sparkling glass allowing an unobstructed view of the rooftop garden on the adjacent building, which housed a dining hall and also belonged to the Emerald Entertainment complex. No one sat at the chair behind Yoon’s desk. Instead, Eunjae’s brothers were ranged throughout the room.
Everyone was there except Jaehwan. The oldest present, Kazu and Nicky had taken the chairs closest to the desk. Namgyu sat with Kei beneath a framed aerial photo of Seoul. Max and Jesse huddled next to the CEO’s vintage record player.
Only Jungwoo stood apart. How many times had Eunjae taken the spot beside him? And now he stayed away, remaining in the center of the room. But it wasn’t the first time Eunjae had been surrounded by others while feeling completely alone at the same time. He attempted to settle into that state of being, a familiar discomfort. It didn’t come very easily. Perhaps too much had changed already.
Jesse spoke up first. He sat with his shoulders hunched, his usual energy dimmed to an ember. Sniffling, he asked the question hanging heavy and unspoken in the air between them.
“Are you leaving, hyung? Is it true?”
“You can’t just leave,” Kei blurted out. “That isn’t fair to the rest of us. You know it’s not.”
Kazu turned to cut him a warning glare. “If he wants to go, then we have no business holding him back.”
“That’s easy for you to say. They’re about to put you out to pasture anyway. You, Nicky, even Jaehwan-hyung. You’re all halfway out the door.”
“Keiichi,” admonished Namgyu, but Kei pressed on, pinning Eunjae with a flinty stare.
“You’ve had your time. I guess that’s good enough for you. But what about the rest of us? Me, Max, and Jess? We’re the youngest members in the group. If we disband —”
“Nobody said anything about that,” Nick was quick to interject. “You’re jumping to conclusions. Groups can lose a member without disbanding. It happens.”
Kazu nodded. “And Ari hasn’t even gotten to say anything in his own defense yet. We need to hear him out.”
Tell them, urged the part of Eunjae that had somehow become braver than the rest of him.You can't put it off forever. You can't keep hoping you just read the contract wrong. Just tell them everything.But in the end, he didn't.
“Losing a member could have serious consequences for all of us,” Kazu went on, “especially when you consider what Ari contributes to our overall sound. We have to be fair, so that’s something to think about.”
With a grimace, Nick said, “There’s no way we’d ever match what we’ve got now. We need everybody for that. The fans would be upset, too.”
“Maybe Apollo would bounce back. Seems like lots of groups do, even when they lose someone. But what happens to Ari if he leaves?” Namgyu leaned forward, frowning out of genuine concern. “That could be the end of your career, man.”
“I know,” said Eunjae.
“Just to be really clear, it could be the end of all our careers. Because we’re successful as a group, first and foremost. A lot of us haven't had as many chances to do stuff on our own. So without the group, what the hell are we? Why should people care about us if we aren’t Apollo anymore?”
Max took a step toward Kei. “What are you getting at? We can't force him to stay. That’s not right either.” Automatically, Eunjae grabbed Max and Kazu took hold of Kei before things could escalate.
